


Allowed to Be Human

by MissCrazyWriter321



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas Isn't Canon, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Lucy, Two Insecure Puppies Loving Each Other, Vaguely Post-Chinatown, lots of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 11:23:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20339329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissCrazyWriter321/pseuds/MissCrazyWriter321
Summary: He will not push.This, like the number of hours in a day, like the year she received her degree, she knows."Lucy..." He hesitates. "Do you want me to get someone else?"





	Allowed to Be Human

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! This isn't the newest chapter of Forgotten, but I promise that I haven't forgotten about that. (Pun only slightly intended.) In the meantime, enjoy over a thousand words of Lucy's self-esteem issues and Garcy cuddles.
> 
> This is for a prompt from Tumblr, sent in by a dear anon: "Let me take a look at you."

"Hey, let me take a look at you." 

His voice is impossibly gentle, but she cannot meet his eyes. It hurts, everything hurts, and she is exactly the failure she has always known herself to be. She crosses her arms around herself, drawing back. 

He will not push.

This, like the number of hours in a day, like the year she received her degree, she knows. 

"Lucy..." He hesitates. "Do you want me to get someone else?" 

"No!" She is too loud for the tiny bunker. Too loud, too much, and still, not enough. She closes her eyes, willing him to leave.

It loops through her mind, over and over, taunting and cold: The fight. Emma getting her alone, punching and kicking and mocking, not letting her get a word in edgewise. Lucy being useless to fight back (just like Chinatown. Just like she's always been), in spite of her best efforts. And the journal-

Emma has the journal. All because Lucy was careless, because she had it in her car when she went to visit her mother. Rittenhouse has the journal, and there is nothing they can do about it.

Typical. 

She half hopes he isn't there when she whispers "I'm sorry," not daring to look up. 

A sharp intake of breath. Footsteps draw close to her, then pause, and she can almost feel his hesitation. "You have nothing to be sorry for." 

Right. When he was in prison, he could blame her for everything, but now it's just too much effort? "Don't." She lifts her head, glaring at him. The tenderness in his eyes almost gives her pause. Almost. "Don't baby me. I messed up, so don't act like you aren't angry." 

The look he gives her is too careful. "Do you want me to be angry?" 

"I-" What kind of question is that? "I want you to stop treating me like I'm made of glass! I did something stupid, and now Rittenhouse has the journal. So whatever you have to say, say it." 

He has the gall to feign confusion. "You had no way of knowing your mother was Rittenhouse." 

"I should have known." She grits her teeth, desperately trying to maintain some sort of composure. "All the signs were there. I should have-" 

"What signs?" 

"The-" No example comes to mind, but that's because she's on the spot. It has to be. It was plain as day that her mother couldn't be trusted. It had been right in front of her, but she hadn't seen it, and now Emma has their battle plan. 

They're all going to die because of her.

When she doesn't say anything, he sighs. "Like I said. No way of knowing." 

His words may be true, but they settle uncomfortably beneath her skin all the same. "I had no way of knowing that Agent Christopher was following me, but you still blamed me for that." 

As soon as it's out of her mouth, she wants to take it back, to cram it back inside. ( _ See, _ a dark voice at the back of her mind taunts, you break everything you touch. No wonder you've never been good enough for anyone.) He flinches, and the raw hurt in his eyes is almost unbearable, but the guilt and shame that replace it are worse. 

"I'm sorry about that," he murmurs. "Truly. It wasn't your fault. If that's what this is about-" 

"It's not," she says, a little too quickly. "It's just-it's always been like this, okay? You thought I was going to be some kind of hero, very impressive, and I'm not. I know it, you know it... Everyone knows it. So just-just say it. I've let you down." 

It's meant to be firm, but by the end, she's trembling, and she closes her eyes in a poor attempt to hide her tears. 

There is a suffocating silence, a weight beside her on the couch, and an unexpected tug. When he pulls her into his arms, she cannot bring herself to resist. 

"You're human," he whispers against her hair. The cuts on her face ache where she presses into his chest, but she only clings tighter. "You're allowed to be human. We all make mistakes. Trust me-" He laughs, but it is watery. "I've made more than most." 

He is warm and solid and safe, and maybe she does not deserve this, but she cannot bring herself to let go. "I'm sorry," she whispers into his shirt, again and again. He strokes her hair, humming softly by her ear, and rocks her for awhile. 

"You haven't failed me." It's so soft she can hardly hear it, but it settles in her bones. 

"I don't-" She grapples for the words to soothe, to reassure him that this whole mess is not his fault. "This isn't about the arrest." It's pathetically weak, but she does not know how to tell him that she has always disappointed people.

He relaxes at her words, and she can practically feel him thinking. "You know," he says at length, "Whatever your mother told you, you won't be abandoned just for making a mistake." 

This throws her, briefly. "This isn't about my-" The words won't quite come. 

"Alright." Again, he does not push. "Can I take a look now?" 

It takes her a moment to place what he means. 

Oh, right. The patchwork of injuries passing for her face. "Mhmm." She pulls back slowly, not quite able to lift her head, and studies the lines of his shirt. 

With infinite gentleness, he wipes her face clean, and dabs each wound with antiseptic. His hands are not smooth, but she never wants him to take them from her cheeks, her nose, her forehead. With every brush, tension fades from her, and she can breathe a little easier. When he finally releases her, she has to dig deep to identify the feeling inside of her: 

Calm. 

She is safe. Everything will be alright.

(There is still a voice at the back of her mind, taunting her, calling her a failure. Promising her that everyone will leave. Flynn kisses her brow, and that voice gets a little quieter.) 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!!


End file.
